


Rewinding

by Amorette



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 00:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: Being hit on the head sometimes caused Hercules momentary confusion but surely the blow hadn't been hard enough to cause him to forget what happened to Iolaus at the hands of that Amazon.





	

REWINDING   
by Amorette

The pain was centered on his left temple, a burning, throbbing pain that beat in time to his pulse. If he kept his eyes closed and lay very still, maybe he would slip back into unconsciousness again and could ignore the pain and the voice he could hear calling his name.

“Hercules. C’mon, Herc. Wake up. Open your eyes. Hercules.”

Nope. The voice wasn’t going away. The voice belonged to someone who sounded very insistent that he wake up so, with reluctance, he opened one eye a slit and stared up at the out-of-focus face above him.

“Hey,” the voice said, sounding relieved. “Glad to see you’re back with us. How do you feel?”

He opened both eyes a little more, wincing even though the room in which he lay was dimly lit. Swallowing against the bile in his throat, he managed to croak out an answer. 

“Rotten.”

The face swam into focus. It was Iphicles. After a moment, he remembered who Iphicles was. His brother. His older, mortal half-brother.

“Drink this.”

His brother put an arm around his shoulders and helped Hercules sit up enough that he could swallow from a cup held to his lips. It contained cool water, with an underlying bitterness that made him suspect willow bark. 

“You took a pretty good whack on the head,” Iphicles was saying. “That beam just gave away so suddenly no one could have gotten out of the way.” Iphicles’ voice sounded fondly affectionate. “Good thing you have such a hard head.”

The cup was taken away and Hercules lay back gratefully, closing his eyes.

“Mother will be glad to know you’re back among the living. You’ve been out for almost a whole day.”

A cool cloth wiped Hercules forehead as he started to slip back into sleep when something occurred to him. Struggling, he managed to ask a single question.

“Where’s Iolaus?”

The cloth hesitated in its path across his face. He opened his eyes and saw Iphicles looking at him, his brother’s expression puzzled. Suddenly worried, Hercules tried to sit up and failed, the room spinning around him. He grabbed his brother’s wrist.

“Where’s Iolaus? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine, Herc,” replied his brother soothingly, putting a fresh cloth on his face. “He’s right where he always is. Now sleep.”

Where he always is. Hercules found that answer odd but he was too weak to question Iphicles further. Where he always is. Ah, he must be sleeping nearby. That’s what Iphicles probably means. Satisfied with his explanation, Hercules slept.

Iphicles watched his brother’s brow smooth as he fell asleep. That blow to his head must have rattled Hercules more than Iphicles realized, if Hercules was asking about Iolaus. Shaking his head, Iphicles rinsed out the cloth and returned to stroking it gently over his brother’s face.

“How is he?”

“Oh, mother. He was awake for a moment. You know him. He’ll be fine.”

Alcmene came and stood beside her sons, her hand resting on her older son’s shoulder. There had been a time when Hercules and Iphicles hadn’t gotten along very well but these last few years, they had become as close as brothers were meant to be.

“So what’s wrong?” she asked, able to tell something was bothering Iphicles.

“Nothing, really, he just asked where Iolaus was.”

Iphicles felt his mother’s hand tighten on his shoulder. He wasn’t surprised. It was a name that was rarely mentioned, especially by Hercules. 

“Iolaus,” said Alcmene softly. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Well, they say dreaming is close to death. Maybe in his dreams, they’re together again.” She sighed. “Go to bed, Iphicles. It’s my turn.”

Obedient, Iphicles gave his seat on the stool and the basin and cloth to his mother. He gave his brother one last glance before leaving. There had been a time when he resented the relationship between his brother and his brother’s best friend but that time was long gone. The envy Iphicles felt towards Iolaus ended when Iolaus died. Now, although he hadn’t thought of the other man in years, he found himself missing him. With a sigh that sounded much like his mother’s, Iphicles left the room.

***

When Hercules woke the second time, it was to see his mother sitting near him, her hands busy with some needlework. He cleared his throat to speak and she turned, smiling.

“Hercules!” She set her needle aside.

The pain was considerably less than it had been when he woke earlier. His head still hurt but nothing he couldn’t deal with. Cautiously, he sat up, waving his mother’s helping hand away. She made her usual motherly clucking noises, offering him a drink of water, which he accepted. 

“Well,” Alcmene said cheerfully, smiling, “I’m glad to see your eyes focusing again. I imagine you’ll want me to leave the room in a minute but first, tell me how you feel.”

“My head hurts.” He smiled weakly to show her he was joking. “Not bad, though. My mouth tastes terrible. Must have had some willow bark.” He looked around. He was in a room with a narrow bed, on which he lay, a chest at the foot of it, a stool next to it. There was a pitcher and basin sitting on the chest. There wasn’t another bed.

“Where’s Iolaus?”

The instant he said the name, his mother’s smile vanished. The fear he had put aside when he asked Iphicles that same question--and now he remembered asking Iphicles--came back full force. He caught his mother by her upper arms.

“Where is he? Is he hurt? Mother!”

Taking a deep breath, Alcmene pulled away from her son’s grip, which loosened as he realized how tightly he was holding her. Her hand brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Now think, Hercules. It’s been years. . .”

“Years since what?”

Alcmene’s face showed concern as she said, very gently, “Since Iolaus died.”

“What!” Hercules felt his stomach draw into a tight knot. Not again. Dear gods, not again. And he’d been unconscious, unable to rescue his friend. Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe Hades would still give Iolaus back. Then what his mother said began to sink in. She had said it had been years since Iolaus died. But that was ridiculous! Iolaus had been with him yesterday; no, the day before yesterday, since Iphicles said he had been out of it for nearly a day.

He said it out loud. “He was with me day before yesterday!”

“You’ve been dreaming, Hercules. Iolaus has been dead nearly ten years now. You must have just had a dream about him, that’s all.”

Iolaus dead? Dead for ten years? But hadn’t they been in that building together, Hercules holding the collapsing beam while Iolaus herded the people outside towards the door, ducking back and forth under Hercules’ uplifted arms as he did so, utterly confident that Hercules could support the weight? And then, a loud crack as a secondary beam split and swung down, hitting him.

Concerned at the look at her son’s face, Alcmene began to talk about that awful time all those years ago, when Hercules’ best friend had died. Her voice as comforting as she could make it, she said, “Remember? The two of you went to help some village that was being attacked by monsters but they turned out to be Amazons. You wouldn’t tell us exactly what happened, only that Iolaus had been killed by one of the Amazons and that. . .” Alcmene’s voice trailed off for a moment. When she spoke again, it was harder than before. “That Hera had been behind all of it.”

The horrible thing was, Hercules did remember. He remembered calling after Iolaus as Iolaus left his side to chase the creature that had cut his face. Iolaus yelling back, so distracted by discovering that behind the mask was a woman that he left himself open. Most of all, he remembered blood, pumping out of Iolaus’ belly, over Hercules’ hands, as his friend’s life faded away. And he could never forget the fury and anguish filling his soul as he was dragged away by the Amazons, not even given a chance to bury his friend’s body.

He looked up at his mother, tears in his eyes. “But I remember his being alive just a few days ago. I’m sure he was.”

“Oh, Hercules.” She put her arms around him and pulled him to her breast. He clung to her, remembering even worse things. 

Remembering finding Iolaus’s body several days later and burying it because it wasn’t fit to take back to show Ania. Taking back only the medallion Iolaus always wore to give the woman who would never be his wife and a lock of golden hair, still recognizable despite decay and predation, from Iolaus’ head, wrapping it in a thread of Iolaus’ blouse. He still had that lock of hair, tucked into the pouch at his belt.

“Mother.” He pushed her away, wiping his tears. Why was he so grief-stricken over something that had happened, as his mother said, so many years ago? “I’m sorry I upset you. It must just have been a dream.”

“Yes, darling.” She smiled, running her hand down the side of his face. “Just a dream. Now I’m going to leave you for a moment to give you your privacy. Your clothes are in the chest.”

She left, pulling the door shut behind her. Hercules tended to nature’s call, then got dressed, in spite of the continuing pain in his head. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep and he didn’t want to lay in his bed, remembering Iolaus. 

He left the room and found himself in a back hallway of the royal palace at Corinth. He walked slowly down the hall, heading for a private chamber where Jason and his mother stayed when they visited her son the king.

If Iolaus was dead, then why did he have a very clear memory of Iolaus helping him in that collapsing building? Iolaus saying he’d make sure everyone got out. And before that, in the morning, Iolaus discussing his plans for their stay in Corinth, how he was planning on entering the annual hunting contest which he had missed the last several years.

He shook his head. He must have been dreaming. His hand slipped into the pouch at his waist and touched the lock of hair, still wrapped tightly with grey thread. Just dreaming.

Jason was sitting by the fire, reading some parchments. He often came to give advice to Iphicles. Unlike Jason, Iphicles hadn’t been raised a crown prince, trained since childhood to rule. Iphicles had the brains for it, the authority and the patience, but sometimes the more subtle political machinations troubled him. Jason was reading some letters from another petty king who had never been completely trustworthy, looking for clues to whether he was being truthful this time or not. As Hercules came in the door, Jason looked up, relieved to be interrupted.

“Hercules!” He wanted to tell his friend he was looking better but he couldn’t. Hercules looked awful, his face drawn and shadowed. “Should you be out of bed?”

Hercules waved a hand at the older man. “Probably not but I can’t stand lying there anymore. Jason, can ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember the last time you talked to Iolaus?”

Jason started to answer, then stopped, his face clouded. “That’s odd,” he muttered.

“What?”

"Well, for a moment there, I almost said day before yesterday but that's ridiculous. Iolaus has been dead for years." He squinted up at the taller man. "Why ask that now, after all this time?"

Hercules sat heavily into a chair facing Jason, resting his head in his hands. "I'm not sure it has been all that time. I know, I remember clearly, when Iolaus died."

So did Jason, but he didn't say anything. He had gotten the message several days later, that Iolaus was dead and Hercules, half mad with grief, had disappeared after taking Iolaus' betrothed to become a priestess of Artemis. Jason has sent men out looking for his friend but all they brought back were stories of a driven man, too terrible to approach, heading east. Then silence, for more than a year, until Hercules had finally returned. He never spoke about Iolaus, or where he had gone for that long year. So why was he bringing it up now?

Hercules continued. "But I remember other things, other times with Iolaus, after he was killed." He looked up, staring into the unlit hearth. "I remember his wedding. And I remember him being at mine. I remember all sorts of things up to and including his being with me in that damned library when it collapsed. Whose idea was it to put that big stupid statue on the roof anyway?"

"Ah, some rich noble paid for it. Trying to make everyone think he is a scholar. Truth is, the poor fool can't even sign his name."

"There you are." Iphicles came into the room, his mother beside him.

"If you won't stay in bed," Alcmene clucked, putting a cushion in the chair behind her younger son's back, "The least you can do is put your feet up and rest. Jason, give me that stool."

Jason obliged, smiling as his wife lifted her son's large feet and propped them carefully on the stool. Then a memory flickered faintly in his mind's eye, of Iolaus, one cold winter night, propping Hercules' feet up on a stool in front of a blazing fire, laughing about how big Hercules'feet were compared to his own. The strange thing was, Jason was sure that had happened recently, since he married Alcmene.

"Jason?" His wife was looking at him.

"Yes, dear?"

"Nothing." She sat between the two men, Iphicles taking a seat by the hearth. "It's nice to have all my men around me. . ." Her voice trailed off. The last time she had said that, Iolaus had been there but Iolaus had never been around when Iphicles was. They didn't like each other. And when Iolaus was alive, she and Jason weren't married.

Now it was Jason's turn to stare at his wife. "Alcmene?"

"Nothing." She tried out a smile. "Just remembering something."

It was Iphicles who spoke, surprisingly. "You were remembering something about Iolaus, weren't you?"

"Why, yes, dear, I was. Why?"

Iphicles snorted. "Because I'm beginning to think Hercules wasn't the only one who got whacked on the head. For some reason, I would swear I talked to Iolaus just the other day, telling him about some old soldiers that resettled along the northern border. But that's impossible. That resettlement just took place last year."

"I got Zeus to turn back time."

The other occupants of the room turned to Hercules, who had raised his head. His voice was distant.

"Now I remember. I asked him to turn back time, to save the lives of all the people who died because of Hera. He did."

"Herc," said Iphicles, "You're always saying Zeus never did anything for you."

"He didn't. Except that once."

"But. . ." Jason shook his head. "He didn't that time. Iolaus is dead and has been dead for years. It was sad at the time, a tragedy, but we all mourned him and got on with our lives. He wasn't alive two days ago. Was he?"

Hercules pulled the lock of hair out of his pouch and brushed the ends of it against his fingers. It was still soft and still golden, as if it had been cut only days before.

"Mother, do you know where Ania is?"

Alcmene's brow creased for a moment as she recalled who Ania was. "As far as I know, in the temple where she went after Iolaus died."

Iphicles said, without thinking, "Knowing Iolaus, I'm still amazed she was fit to be an attendant to Artemis."

"Iphicles!"

"Sorry, mother." He blushed, aware that Jason was smiling behind the letter he had quickly raised to shield his face.

"I have to talk to her."

"Of course, dear, tomorrow. When you're feeling better."

Hercules stood up, shoving the lock of hair back into his pouch as he did.

"No, mother. Now. While the memories of Iolaus being alive just recently are still fresh. Unless the temple has moved, it's not far from here."

"Same place," said Iphicles. "Want me to come along?"

"No. I'll be fine. And mother, I'll be back in time for dinner."

Before Alcmene or anyone else could protest, Hercules was gone, the door hanging open behind him.

"Do you think it's possible," she asked, "that something has happened and our memories of Iolaus dying all those years ago are false?"

"If it were anyone else," answered her son, "I'd say no but you know Herc and that half-god thing. He's just never wrong. Which reminds me, when he gets back, I want him to read that letter from King Penthios."

The temple of Artemis wasn't far from the king's palace. Hercules walked there as quickly as he could through the crowds of the city center. He was aware of a few people hailing him but he ignored them, focusing on his memories of Iolaus alive. 

Day before yesterday, in the library because Iolaus was trying to actually find some information in a scroll to prove he was right and Hercules, for once, was wrong. When he found what he was looking for, he said, "Oh, damn" and banged his head dramatically on the table while Hercules laughed. Then, Iolaus' head came up, his eyes narrowing, as the roof over their heads creaked ominously.

Holding the beam up as Iolaus dashed through the building, finding terrified patrons and herding them out the door. Ducking under Hercules' uplifted arms, grinning at his friend and saying, "I guess there are times when too tall is good."

Iolaus finding an elderly librarian under a table that had toppled over when the ceiling began to collapse, lifting the heavy table off the man easily, then, with hands that could be as gentle as they were deadly, picking up the old man and carrying him outside, again ducking by Hercules with a wink.

His bright hair against the disturbed ground. The stink of death so thick in the air it made Hercules retch. The blue eyes already gone, picked away by scavengers.

Hercules stopped, leaning on the side of a building, ignoring the concerned murmurings around him. No. Iolaus was alive. He had to be. Pushing the horrible image from his mind, Hercules continued down the street to the temple.

Ania, weeping, dressed in black, clutching Iolaus' pendant in her hand as they walked up these very steps.

No. No. Iolaus was alive. Something had gone wrong with time. Zeus had turned it back and somehow, it had gotten turned forward again but Hercules could fix it. He had to.

A handmaiden, her gown purest white, looked up as a grey-faced Hercules lurched through the doors of the temple of the Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon. Her hand went to her breast as she stared at the tall man with the look of agony on his handsome face.

He stared back at her, his mind whirling as he tried to remember both Iolaus' grin and wink in the library and why Hercules had come to this place.

"I need to see Ania," he gasped.

The handmaiden stared at him, backing slowly away. Fortunately, an older woman came through an inner door and saw Hercules.

"How can I help you," she asked him calmly, laying a soothing hand on the trembling shoulder of the younger woman.

"I need to see Ania," Hercules repeated, realizing how he must look. He straightened, pushing his hair off his sweaty brow. "She is a priestess here, has been for nearly ten years. I need to see her. It's very important."

The older woman frowned. "Ania is one of our chief priestesses, my lord Hercules. But she isn't feeling well today. . ." The woman's voice trailed off at the look in the man's face. "Wait here, I'll see if she can receive you. Come, Iphigenia."

The two women left the room. Hercules leaned gratefully against the cool marble behind him, staring up at a gigantic marble and golden statue of the goddess in the middle of the room.

"He's alive," he whispered firmly to the statue. "I know he is. And you know he is because he is one of your chosen. Help me, Artemis. Please."

The older woman was back quickly. "Ania will see you now." She hesitated a moment, her hand on the door. "We are entering the sacred precincts. No ordinary man may enter here but since you are Hercules, the goddess will permit. I do ask that you keep your eyes lowered in respect."

And in case any of Artemis' virgin priestesses are bathing naked in the sacred pool, Hercules thought. Good thing Iolaus isn't with me.

They walked through a marble corridor out into the garden at the center of the temple. Hercules heard women's voices, laughing, talking, but he ignored them, ignored the beauty of the gardens, the flowers and sculptures. His mind was focused on one thing, the fading memory of Iolaus winking at him as the smaller man ducked under his arms.

"Hercules. What brings you here?"

Time had not been kind to Ania. She was plump and pale, her once lustrous hair turning grey already. There were circles under her eyes. She sat on a chaise under a weeping willow, wrapped in soft blankets. An acolyte sat beside her on a low stool, strumming a lute. As Hercules approached, the acolyte stood and hurried away.

"Hello." He swallowed, suddenly unsure how to bring up the subject. "I. . .I had to see you. It's important."

Ania smiled and the shadow of the lovely young woman Iolaus had once loved returned. "I gather that. It's been years. So, Hercules, why are you here and what is so important?"

Hercules pulled the vacant stool close to Ania's chaise. He looked at the ground, confused. This woman was a virgin priestess of Artemis. She had never married Iolaus. Yet. . .

"Ania, I want you to answer my question without thinking, just answer it as quickly as you can. Can you do that?"

"I think so, yes." The woman shifted in her chair, whether from discomfort or nervousness, Hercules didn't notice. 

He looked up at her. "Have you thought of Iolaus recently?"

Her eyes opened wide, the question obviously startling her. Her hand went to her breast. "Why do you ask?"

Hercules caught at her hands, holding them gently but conveying his urgency in his grasp. "Have you?"

She blushed, lowering her gaze, as she pulled her hands away. "Well, it's embarrassing for someone in my position to admit it but yes, I have thought of him." She smiled again. "I dreamt about him last night." Now she sighed. "A very realistic dream, it was, too."

Softly, Hercules commanded, "Tell me about it."

For a moment, Ania bit her lip before leaning forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I was never with Iolaus, you know." She giggled. "I know, no one believed that but it's true. We were waiting until after we were married. But last night, I had a very. . .vivid dream of . . .being with him." She took a deep breath. "The strangest thing was, when I woke up this morning, I actually reached out for him, expecting him to be there beside me." She sounded shocked. "I swear, Hercules, I never shared his bed."

"I know."

Ania laughed, half embarrassed, half amused. "But this morning, a priestess of Artemis awoke expecting to find a man beside her even if she had never experienced that in her life!" 

Ania leaned back against her chaise, the blush and smile leaving her face. Her voice turned serious. "How did you know? It's been years since I thought of Iolaus. Oh, at first, I dreamed of him every night and thought of him every waking moment, but that was a long time ago. We knew each other for less than two years, we were never married, never lovers, although I loved him, and he's been dead for almost a decade. I've been a priestess here much longer than I was ever Iolaus' betrothed. So why, last night, did I have such a dream about him and why are you here, the very next morning, asking me about it?"

"I don't know." Hercules sat back, closing his eyes, remembering Iolaus, winking as he carried the old librarian to safety. "I had a dream, too. That Iolaus was with me, less than two days ago."

He opened his eyes and gazed intently at Ania. She had been a sweet, simple young woman ten years ago. Now, while she had spent those years in this temple, she was older, wiser, more aware of the world.

"I think Iolaus is alive."

Ania frowned. "You are the one who told me he was dead. Who gave me this." She pulled Iolaus' pendant from under her robes. The sight of that carved stone, so familar to Hercules' eyes, caused a sharp pain to blossom in his chest. He knew where that pendant should hang, against whose breastbone it should rest, just over the heart. "Yes, I wear it still, to remind me that I serve the goddess to honor him. But if you lied to me. . ."

"No!" He rubbed his face with his hands. Unable to sit any longer, Hercules stood up and paced around Ania's chair. He looked out over the gardens, at the carefully trimmed hedges, the artfully placed urns filled with hanging flowers, the arrangements of statues and fountains, at the pure perfection of it. This garden was controlled and planned, kept neat under the hands of attentive gardeners, nothing like the forests and the wild lands where Hercules was accustomed to spend his time. 

"He died, killed by Amazons in the service of Hera, but I got Zeus to turn back time so that his death never happened. I know it sounds impossible. . ."

Ania interrupted him. "Not impossible. I have seen several things since I became the chief priestess, that, as a simple peasant girl, I would have thought impossible. But I have seen the power of the gods and I know that, for them, even death and time are not immutable. You are saying that Iolaus died when we both remember him dying but that the death was erased by the will of Zeus. And, somehow, that death has been restored."

Hercules almost collapsed onto the stool, his knees gone weak, grateful that Ania understood. "Exactly! I've talked to my mother, my brother, Jason, and they all remember seeing or talking to Iolaus recently even though they all remember him dying all those years ago."

The body, torn open by scavengers, bloated with decay. Only the blond hair and the pendant still recognizable. No! Iolaus, winking as he. . .as he. . .as he did what?

"Have you spoken to the goddess?"

"Not yet."

Ania gestured to the acolyte, standing some distance away. The girl came forward, trembling so hard that the lute in her hand gave off soft sounds as the strings vibrated.

"Take him to the sanctum."

The girl turned pale and stared at Hercules as if he were a hydra and had just grown another head.

"Take him!" Ania's voice, even though it was growing weaker, gave a firm command. "He is Hercules, you foolish child. Take him now!"

He reached his hands for hers and held them. "Thank you, Ania. I hope you'll be well soon."

"I will. It's just a little summer complaint." She smiled again, even though he could see the pain in her eyes. "Who knows? Perhaps by the time I'm well, I'll be Iolaus' wife."

They both laughed lightly, ignoring the gasp of horror from the acolyte. Hercules turned, following the trembling girl across the garden, past the sacred pool, and into an inner temple. It was open to the garden on all sides, made of white marble and plaster painted to an even more glaring white. In the center of the room, on a raised dais surrounded by lamps, lit even though it was daylight, was another statue of Artemis, all covered in giltwork, only instead of being gigantic, it was just life size. The girl left him here.

"Artemis."

"Yes?"

He turned. The goddess of the hunt stood behind him, dressed in a short golden robe, a bow in her hand, a quiver of arrows over her shoulder.

"I have to ask you a question." He took a deep breath. "Just, please, answer it as quickly as you can, don't think it over too much. All right?"

Artemis smiled. "All right."

"When was the last time you thought of Iolaus?"

The goddess' lips parted but before she could make a sound, her expression changed. She frowned, a very ominous frown. Anyone else might have been upset to see a goddess looking so unhappy but Hercules was delighted. 

"That's odd." She shook her head. "I was going to say the last time I thought of him was two days ago, when he placed his name on the list for the hunting competition. But that's impossible." Artemis looked at Hercules. "He died years ago. I remember being grieved because he was one of mine. Well, one of mine and one of Hephaestus' and one of Aphrodite's and one of Ares' but when he was a hunter, he was like no other and he was mine!"

Hercules let out the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "Yes, Iolaus was one of yours."

Artemis didn't seem to hear. She had turned to look out into the garden of her temple, at the woman lying under the willow tree, eyes closed, listening to the lute, a curved pendant carved of smooth stone held in her hands.

"She came here because he died."

"Yes."

"But if he died then why do I distinctly remember his name on the list for the competition. I remember seeing him in the temple, writing it down, trying very hard not to stare at one of my handmaidens. Hercules?"

Hercules had an urge to hug his sister but Artemis was not given to such gestures of affection so he just sighed in relief. "I think someone did something that affected time."

Two chairs appeared, looking as if they were made of spun gold. Artemis set her bow and quiver aside and sat down, gesturing to Hercules to take the other. He did, lowering his bulk carefully into it, making sure it would hold his weight.

"You had better explain."

He did, quickly reminding her of the battle with the Amazons who were pledged to Hera instead of herself. Artemis made an impolite sound when he mentioned that. Then he told her that while he remembered Iolaus dying (digging a grave with his bare hands, tears streaming from his eyes as he did), he also remembered Iolaus being alive because Zeus turned back time. "Iolaus was alive when that damned library fell down. I know he was!" Iolaus winking at him. Iolaus' empty eye sockets, staring up at him as he shoveled dirt over them. Iolaus winking at him as he carried the old librarian to safety.

"That stupid statue to Athena," muttered Artemis, studying her hands. "When I saw that thing, my first thought was the roof will never hold it. If you and Iolaus hadn't been there, I hate to think what would have happened."

"He was there, wasn't he?" Hercules was horrified to hear doubt in his voice.

"Yes, I think he was." 

Artemis stood up and walked to the edge of the temple porch so she could peer at the sky. Hercules followed her, looking up at the blue sky, a few high cirrus clouds drifting by.

"The planets," muttered the goddess.

"Huh?"

"Oh, I suppose your mortal half keeps you from seeing them but I can see the stars and planets all the time. And the planets aren't where they should be."

Hercules squinted at the sky. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm in charge of the moon. I keep track of things in the night sky and they are definitely not where they should be! Hercules, wait here, I have to talk to someone."

Before Hercules could protest, Artemis vanished in a flash of golden light. He looked up at the sky and then back to where the goddess had been standing. 

"Fix this," he pleaded with the statue. "Please. Fix this."

Artemis was furious. Someone had tampered with time, there was no doubt about it. The question was, who? Only a few gods had the power to turn back time and she was starting with the one who most often caused trouble for Hercules.

"Ares!"

Ares, God of War, was standing on a hilltop, staring down at a dozen men in the valley below scrambling around a mechanized contraption of wood and rope. Artemis appeared at his side. As she watched, the men attempted to launch a series of balls of flaming pitch. As the men scattered, jumping into a nearby stream, Ares covered his face with one hand.

"There are times," he said, "I don't know why I bother."

"Ares, this is important."

"Good, because this isn't. What idiots." He waved his hand, transporting himself and his fellow goddess back to a handy temple. "So, Artemis, dear sister, what's wrong? Things are awfully peaceful these days but I am working on it."

"Look at the planets."

Ares raised an eyebrow. Normally, he and Artemis got along fairly well, since they did share some common interests. If she was being so abrupt, something must be wrong. Shrugging, he went and peered up from under the edge of his temple's porch.

"Wait a minute." He stopped, calculating. "Those aren't right, are they?" 

"No," the goddess snapped. "They are at least twelve hours off. So, who did it?"

"Not me!" Ares' voice was emphatic. "I hate messing with time. Never works out right and then the old man is always after me for screwing up some plan of his."

"Not Apollo." Artemis was ticking the gods capable of such an act off on her gloved fingers. "He is as concerned with celestial bodies as I am."

A remark on the subject of bodies occurred to Ares but since his virgin sister seemed quite serious, he decided against speaking it out loud.

"Not Hades," Ares volunteered. "He's got inventory coming up, that's why the wars are on hold, I promised him a couple of days to get caught up on paperwork if he let me unload a few extras on him after the counting is done."

"No, not Hades." Artemis smiled tightly. "He hates anything to mess up his filing system and nothing confuses a filing system like messing with time."

Ares continued to stare at the sky, trying to work out where everything should be.

"When did you notice this?"

"When was the last time you took notice of Iolaus?"

The sudden change of topic caused Ares to make a face. "That annoying blonde buddy of my brother's? Last week he. . ."

Artemis had to laugh. She just loved the look Ares got on his face when something confused him. 

"Wait a minute." Ares snarled. "He died years ago. One of Mom's better plans. It didn't get Hercules but it got his buddy and poor Hercules was so upset he left for, like, a year and he was never the same again. Right?"

Artemis just raised an eyebrow.

Ares spun, pacing, his efforts to concentrate so obvious in his expression that Artemis had to make an effort not to snicker again.

"This has something to do with him, doesn't it?"

Quickly, the goddess explained what Hercules had told her. Ares' frown deepened.

"So we know the old man didn't do it because he never reverses any decision."

"Besides," added Artemis, once again looking to the skies. "He'd get the stars right."

"Not Poseidon. Hates to mess with his tides."

"Not Hera. She's not patient enough and besides, she is picky enough that she'd get the stars right, too. She'd never let anyone catch her in a mistake."

The both looked at each other at the same instant, eyes widening, and spoke the name in chorus.

"Aphrodite."

The Goddess of Love was arranging her petitions in two piles, one in a box labeled "Absolutely" and one in a box labeled "Not Ever" when Artemis and Ares suddenly appeared. She looked up, startled. Ares turned up occasionally, they had a history and actually, he had a side that had nothing to do with war. Artemis, on the other hand, hardly ever spoke to Aphrodite. As a professional virgin and protector of virgins, Artemis had little in common with the Goddess of Love.

Artemis spoke first, laying her hand on Ares' arm to silence him. If he got off in a temper, she'd have to get both of them calmed down before anything got taken care of it and she just didn't have time for that.

"Aphrodite, we need to know. Have you done anything that affects time lately?"

They both knew, even before Aphrodite opened her mouth, from the guilty look they saw in her eyes, that she had done just that.

"Just a tiny bit," she replied, holding her thumb and forefinger only a fraction apart.

"Oh, great," muttered Ares, his arms crossed across his chest, his grade alpha glower directed at Aphrodite. Her only response was to flash a smile, then pout prettily.

"Well?" Artemis' voice was cold.

"Well, this Amazon petitioned me. She had said something she regretted to her one true love and totally screwed up an absolutely beautiful relationship so she asked me to, you know, fix it. Well, the easiest solution was just to make it so she never said the thing she said so she never messed up her relationship but then how could she petition me if she never. . ."

Ares made a sound in his throat that would have made generals cringe. Aphrodite just batted her eyelashes at him. He snarled and spun on his heel, pacing because he hated to be in this place with its pink draperies and golden floor.

"Okay, but I am the Goddess of Love and how often do Amazons petition me?" She pointed at the cleavage between her breasts. "Never, that's how often! So, I take it you're annoyed that I messed with some Amazon of yours?"

Artemis sighed. "No, not under the circumstances. Aphrodite, you weren't as careful as you should have been."

"You'd think," hissed Ares from across the room, where he was studying an erotic painting and trying to figure out which body parts belonged to which participants, "the Goddess of Love would know to take precautions."

Said goddess stuck out her tongue at the God of War's back but he was too absorbed in the painting to notice.

"You didn't take the planets into account," Artemis explained, pointedly not looking at the painting that so engrossed Ares. "They aren't in the right positions."

"They're not?" Aphrodite ran to the nearest window and craned her neck at the sky. "Oh, drat! Then the evening star won't be where it's supposed to be." She bit her lip as she tried to determine what had to be moved where to set things back in order.

"And that's not all," continued Artemis. "Do you remember that friend of Hercules?"

Aphrodite wrinkled her nose prettily. "You mean Sweetcheeks? Of course I . . ."

Artemis tried and failed to keep a look of smug satisfaction off her face. Aphrodite, her mouth open in horror, suddenly realized what had happened.

"Iolaus is dead!" She started to cry, snatching a pink handkerchief out of the air. "I killed him!"

"No," said Ares, his head tilted to one side as one finger traced a particular curve back to its owner, "Mom killed him. Dad brought him back. Then you somehow messed up Dad's fix." He straightened and stood back. "This is anatomically impossible. For mortals."

"We have to fix it!" Aphrodite's pink robes faded to black. "We have to get Curly back where he belongs. I'm going to Olympus to talk to Zeus right now!"

"Hold it." Artemis held up one hand. "I'm still not sure why your granting a wish to some Amazon would have made that much of a difference."

"Because," said the voice of the King of the Gods, "that Amazon also had her life restored when I restored the life of Iolaus. She was killed in a battle shortly after Iolaus died. When I turned back time to restore him, I also restored her life."

Zeus had appeared silently, standing in the center of the room, his arms folded across his chest.

"So," Aphrodite said slowly, "she had already been reset in time once before. And my helping her set everything back the way it had been to begin with."

"Exactly." Zeus came up behind his son to study the painting. "Say, where did that come from?"

"The imagination," replied Ares, shaking his head, "of a very creative pervert."

"Excuse me!" 

"Sorry." Zeus tore his eyes from the painting to look back at the Goddess of the Hunt. "You were saying."

"The planets," said Artemis through clenched teeth, "aren't in their proper positions. And Iolaus is dead again."

Zeus laughed. "Easily enough fixed." He waved his hand. "The planets are where they belong." Then he frowned. "The matter of Iolaus, even though his being brought back from the dead is hardly an unusual state, is a bit more complicated. Shall we adjourn to your temple?"

"If Hercules is there," said Ares. "I'm staying here."

"Suit yourself. But if you ever get that picture figured out, let me know." With another wave of his hand, Zeus transported the two goddesses with him.

Hercules sat in one of the golden chairs, his head bowed, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. It was harder and harder to keep the image of a living Iolaus in his mind. The awful face of the dead one kept imposing itself. The lock of blonde hair was pinched between the edges of his hands so that it rested along the bridge of his nose. 

"Son."

At the sound of his father's voice, Hercules sprang to his feet and started to babble, clutching the lock of hair in one hand.

"Somehow Iolaus got killed by the Amazons and stayed dead this time and you've got to fix it because . . ."

Zeus laid a gentle hand on his son's shoulder, feeling the panic in the tension of the muscles. "I will, provided Artemis permits it."

"Me? It was Aphrodite who messed things up!"

Zeus smiled. "Yes, but it is you who lose the most if I reset time again." He gestured to the garden. They all turned and looked at Ania as she lay sleeping on the chaise, under the willow tree, the pendant still clasped in her hands.

Zeus turned to Artemis, taking his hand away from Hercules. It disturbed him to feel the fear in his son's body. "She has served you with grace and loyalty for almost ten years. Today, she is chief among your handmaidens. If Iolaus lives, then she will marry him and never come here to serve you."

Hercules sucked in his breath, remembering. "She'll die in childbirth."

Sadly, Zeus said, "Yes."

Artemis laid her hand on Hercules' shoulder. He looked at her, confusion in his eyes. If his friend lived again, then that woman under the willow tree would die.

"It's all right," said Artemis softly. "I'll let your friend live again."

"But, Ania. . ."

"Ania didn't come to this temple out of her love for me but to honor Iolaus. If you were to ask her, she would tell you that truthfully. Yes, she has been good to me, but she would rather have been his wife than my maiden."

"But. . ."

"Hercules, she is dying now. She isn't suffering from summer complaint but a cancer that will cause her a painful death within the year." Artemis' voice was soft. "A god can cure wounds but not an illness of the body as afflicts her. Yes, her death in childbed was tragic but nothing compared to what lies ahead for her now."

Hercules swallowed against the lump in his throat, remembering Ania's shadowed eyes. "Still, she has lived much longer than she would if she married Iolaus."

It was Aphrodite who said, "If you asked her, I think she'd say she'd rather have a few brief years with him. . ."

Artemis, sadly but honestly, continued, "Then the decade spent in lonely service to me."

"Can I say good-bye to her?"

Hercules walked out of the sanctum, leaving the three gods behind. The beauty of the gardens meant nothing to him as he approached the dying woman. The willow branches stirred as he moved them aside. Ania opened her eyes, wincing, forcing a smile when she saw him.

"Did you speak to the goddess? Did she have good news?"

He knelt next to her chair and took her hands in his. Before, his concern over Iolaus had blinded him but now he saw clearly what Artemis had said. Ania was dying and she knew it as well.

"Iolaus shouldn't have died." He bent his head, unable to meet her gaze. "Artemis confirmed what I suspected. Somehow, a mistake was made."

Her hand laid gently on his head, as if in blessing, and he lifted it. Ania was smiling.

"You're going to fix it, aren't you, Hercules?"

"Yes." He blinked back the tears. "You'll be his wife, Ania. And you will wake up next to him, the way you were supposed to."

"I'm glad."

He kissed her on her forehead and whispered, "I'm going to tell Artemis to set things right now."

"Good." Ania's voice sounded very tired. "I'm glad. For all of us."

***

The pain was centered on his left temple, a burning, throbbing pain that beat in time to his pulse. If he kept his eyes closed and lay very still, maybe he would slip back into unconsciousness again and could ignore the pain and the voice he could hear calling his name.

“Hercules. C’mon, Herc. Wake up. Open your eyes. Hercules.”

Nope. The voice wasn’t going away. The voice belonged to someone who sounded very insistent that he wake up so, with reluctance, he opened one eye a slit and stared up at the out-of-focus face above him.

“Hey,” the voice said, sounding relieved. “Glad to see you’re back with us. How do you feel?”

He opened both eyes a little more, wincing even though the room in which he lay was dimly lit. Swallowing against the bile in his throat, he managed to croak out an answer. 

“Rotten.”

The face swam into focus. It was Iolaus. After a moment, he remembered who Iolaus was. His friend. His best friend in the whole world.

It became terribly important to Hercules to ask a question. With considerable effort, he said, "How are you?"

"Me?" Iolaus grinned. "I pulled a muscle dragging your heavy carcass out of there but otherwise, fine."

"Good."

Hercules started to close his eyes but opened them again as the door to his room swung inward. His mother, her face bursting into a smile, entered.

"Hercules! You're awake!"

"Sort of."

Someone else came in behind his mother, trailing after her, hidden, at first by her skirts. Hercules took a painful moment to focus his eyes on the child, who now stood next to Iolaus, his friend's arm sliding around the boy.

"Hello, Uncle Hercules," said the boy, who looked to be six or seven years old, grinning at him with a familiar smile.

Hercules couldn't speak. He only managed a weak wave of his fingers.

Iolaus stood up, the blonde-haired boy automatically taking his hand.

"We'll leave you with your mother, then," said Iolaus.

"And you do what Gamma Mene says," piped the boy, giving Hercules a fierce look. "If she says stay in bed, you stay in bed or else."

"I will."

He watched as his best friend and his best friend's son left the room, the boy already starting to skip as they entered the hall, his child's voice carrying back as he told his father about his day with Grampa Jason and Uncle Iph and the just hugest fish he caught.

"Hercules?"

He looked at his mother, recognizing the concerned frown on her face.  
 "I'm fine, Mother," he whispered as he closed his eyes. "Better than ever, in fact."

August 2000

**Author's Note:**

> Not crazy about the cute ending but oh, well. It's survived for this long.


End file.
